by Alan Horn
The plug felt just like the one my trainer removed. I felt it swell inside me. It got huge, then a flow of warm liquid entered my ass. It was pleasant at first, then it was too much and as I was about to cry out, the flow stopped. After a minute it drained out. The fill - empty cycle repeated, then the plug shrank and the trainer removed it. He reinserted my plug. It felt bigger than before.
After we were clean internally, the trainers freed the coffle from the posts. The first girl was locked to the chain dangling from the track. One of the trainers went to a panel at the far end of the trough and threw a lever. The chain on the track started moving, drawing the coffle up the ramp. We entered the hot, soapy liquid one at a time.
When I was about to step into the liquid, I saw there was a padded bar across the top of the liquid. It forced the girl in front of me to lower her head into the liquid. The hot liquid was greenish and felt wonderful. It had been so long since I had been clean. When my hands got wet, I could feel the slippery friction of soap. I ducked my head under the bar and got my head wet. The bar wasn't wide, so I could lift my head after only one short step. Of course I was only able to take steps as long as my hobble!
After I had walked down the exit ramp, a matron with a sponge and a hose rinsed me. She paid careful attention to my loins. The hose sprayed warm water. After we were all rinsed, a stream of warm air played over us and we were soon dry. I was in a trancelike state. I was helpless, true, but I was being well cared for. It was like being a child again under my mother's care. But, a thought intruded. There was no motherly love. These people were just doing a job. The girls were just intelligent, helpless livestock to be cleaned as efficiently as possible. We had no choice at all. If we were not obedient, we would be forced. Our desires did not matter. We could expect punishment if we disobeyed. I was glad I wanted to be a slave.
After we had finished, we marched to breakfast.
We lined up kneeling on the floor facing the trainer's table. Our bowls of water and food were on the table. We would eat when the trainers decided to feed us, if they fed us at all. The trainers watched our weight and controlled our diet.
I was hungry. I didn't move or make a sound. I was already that well trained and very obedient. I realized we were dependent on the trainers for every aspect of our existence. Food, waste, sleeping, walking. Every part of our lives was taking place without any use of our hands. We were being trained to only move when a master was leading us on a leash. It was terrifying, but what could I do? As I contemplated my life, I grew hot and aroused. I looked down at my proud breasts and saw the rings moving as my nipples grew rock hard. Love juices trickled down my thighs. I needed a man in me soon.
The trainers ate a good, English breakfast with sausage, eggs, toast and grilled tomatoes. They drank lots of tea. The main discussion topic was the girls they faced. The girls all had their hands locked well up on their backs and they were all still in coffle. One of them pointed out my rock hard swollen nipples and said, “I do believe she likes us.” Another responded, “I don't think its us. She was like that when we ringed her. I just think she likes being enslaved.” He asked, “Regina, why are your nipples so hard.”
I blushed scarlet all over my body. I said, “Master, I just love being a slave, and I thank you for helping me to be an excellent slave.” And it was true. I was speaking from my heart.
When they finished the trainers took the bowls off the tables and set them on the floor in front of the girls. One of them said, “Feed now slaves. Eat everything.” We all bent over the bowls and ate as fast as we could, lapping up water with our tongues when the food was gone.
After breakfast we were marched to the training area.
Chapter 17 - Trained
Week 1
When we got in the training room, we were ordered to standing display position. The trainers then unlocked one end of our coffle chains, leaving each girl with a chain leash. I was led to a long steel bar, bent over it and my leash chain was locked to a ring on the other side. My trainer then used a single tail whip to heat up my bottom. He gave me three stripes then used his fingers to see if I was wet. I was dripping, my ass and loins red hot. I needed a cock in me so bad I squealed when his fingers rubbed me. I thrust back against them as far as I could, but to no avail. They went away. I wept in frustration.
Then they came back and thrust into me. I screamed with joy as I came. My belly churned and my vagina clamped down on the wonderful fingers, trying to draw them back into me. If I hadn't been wet, he would have given me three more stripes, continuing until I was wet. When I regained my senses, I recognized that my trainer had gone on to excite another helpless girl. I waited for my next adventure.
On the first day of training, I orgasmed after only three strokes. Liz after nine and the last girl took fifteen. By the time training ended, none of us would need more than two.
After all the girls orgasmed, we were released from the bar. our leashes unlocked from the floor ring and the morning session began.
This was the first training session for my class. We had no idea what to expect.
The sessions lasted from one to three hours. We trained with strap on dildos, hand held dildos, and butt plugs. We learned to please men and women with oral, vaginal, and anal sex. Each girl played both sides, giving and receiving. We learned to enjoy all kinds of sex.
I looked forward to sucking my partners dry. I savored the juices of men and women, both. Maybe it was because I was always hungry, but love juices were delicious. I was whipped with a great variety of whips on my back, breasts, sex and especially my ass. I became aroused and was dripping by the second blow, no matter where, no matter how hard. I learned the wooden paddle, a trainer's hand, belts, floggers, etc. I whipped other girls to orgasm and was in turn punished to orgasm. My body got pleasure and pain in such frequent proximity that it lost the ability to tell the difference. Any level of pain caused arousal. Instantly. I looked forward to my whippings.
Week 2
I was always chained. I had no idea when or what was next. No outside news or reading material was ever provided. We were told curiosity was unbecoming for slave girls. We were kept ignorant. The trainers never told any of the girls anything in advance. They just gave orders. I learned to live in the present. I learned never to think about anything outside of what I could see or feel. There was no other place than where I was. I felt no anticipation, no expectation. I lived in the instant, for I did not know of anything else and could not affect anything else.
I learned more about arousing another sexually than I thought was possible. Some women seemed to know instinctively how to attract men. I, like most other girls I knew, blundered along relying upon my natural beauty to attract men. In my classes I learned that I had barely scratched the surface. I learned how to arouse men and women solely with the sounds I uttered, or the way I moved my body. I never had any clothing to assist me. I learned to give any trainer looking at me an erection just by the way I looked into his eyes and slowly wriggled. I could get the attention of any woman by the way I bent and slowly lifted my breasts. It was like magic. It always worked. Even though always helpless, I felt powerful when I worked my magic on others.
The trainer's whips were simple braided leather cords with short handles. Never breaking the skin, but always leaving thin red lines wherever they landed. Wielded lightly they corrected my actions and warmed my skin. It leached through to my core and excited me. It made me want more and brought me to the threshold of ecstasy, but they never pushed me over the edge. I loved the feeling and hated the denial. Firmly swung, the same whip scalded me, punished me, controlled me.
Now, after weeks of training, one light stroke or six hard, painful strokes was all it took bring me to the edge. I was not able to orgasm without some direct stimulation of my loins. However. all it took to push me over the edge from arousal to a thunderous orgasm was a single finger. Once I had orgasmed, any further stimulation would send me over again. Any stimulation, whether sex related or
pain inducing would send me over the edge again. If my master aroused me but did not let me come, I would remain in needy anguish for hours. Until either I finally cooled down or allowed to orgasm. Then it would start all over again.
After I had orgasmed the first time, my later orgasms grew in strength. After five or so I would faint. I had learned to be a slut powerhouse. Once aroused, I would orgasm at almost any touch. My masters chose whether I orgasmed or was denied release. In my heart I knew I was a true slave. This was where I belonged. My feelings and desires were no longer under my control. Now, I longed for the whip and orgasm. My body could no longer tell the difference between pain and pleasure. Rather, I welcomed pain because it could lead to more pleasure than I had ever known . I knew I could never be free again. I was only and forever a sex slave, and loved it. Even if released tomorrow I would search forever for a man or woman to enslave me again. My desires, my feelings, my preferences no longer mattered. I longed for a master to take me to the heights of pleasure only he could give.
Week 3
My training was relentless, from dawn to dusk. I was always chained and leashed. I was required to address all men as “Master” and all women as “Mistress.” Often gagged and blindfolded I learned patience waiting for my next lesson. Endless practicing of submissive positions. Relentless trainers who were never satisfied with my best efforts. The always present whips stinging my buttocks and thighs for minor failures. Trainers always giving pain that turned to arousal.
This morning I was aroused with the whip, but I was not taken to climax. The trainer just whipped me until my ass was beet red. He never touched me. I couldn't quite come, no matter how I squirmed. I was released unsatisfied. My body ached in gentle agony. I needed to come. I couldn't concentrate on my lessons. I was whipped for my failures more than ever before. My perfect coordination was lost. I was clumsy and forgot almost everything except the aching void in my belly. I needed to come so bad.
In a brief moment of clarity I saw that the other slaves were having the same problem. The trainer's whips were in constant motion. Correcting problems not seen since the first week.
After we were taken back to our hall and the trainers had left, I found it was agony to kneel. I kept squirming, trying to get comfortable. I complained to Liz, "I didn't get a climax all day. I hurt."
Liz replied, " Me too. I don't think any of us got to come all day. Do you know why?"
I said, "No. They just didn't touch me after I was hot."
I heard the trainer who watched us walking our way. I shut up. He stopped in front of me. He asked, "Do you have a problem, Regina?"
"Master," I said, "I did not get to climax all day. Did I do something wrong?"
He smiled and said, "N, Regina. You have all learned that pain and pleasure are closely aligned. Now it is time for you to learn that you live to give pleasure to your master. You must earn your pleasure. If you are exquisite, your master may choose to reward you. Now be quiet and think how to be exquisite tomorrow."
I was dismayed. No more climaxes unless my trainers thought I deserved a reward. I already was working hard, under the ever present threat of the whip. How could I do better? It was unfair. Hah, slaves don't get fair.
I looked around me. I needed to climax so badly. I couldn't think straight. There must be something here I can rub myself against. I found nothing except maybe the bucket. But that would make noise. The trainer would punish me and take my bucket away. Rats.
I lay down on my mat and felt my need burning in my belly. My body felt deprived of its accustomed pleasure. I thought of what I could do to be exquisite tomorrow. I resolved to obey perfectly and be as alluring as possible. I lay awake for a long time. I thought of Jack and my failure. I wish I could go back and begin anew. I had no options now. I would obey. I would be submissive. I would be an alluring woman. I would watch every motion of the most erotic slaves around me. I would copy the best moves. I would train my body and my face. I must be the best slave. A perfect slave.
Week 4
I pleased a trainer this morning. I smile all the time, even when the whip is arousing me. This morning after my whipping, I said, "Master, may I speak?"
He said, "All right, Regina. Speak."
Master, I said, " thank you for whipping me. I am very aroused now. You are masterful with the whip. My bottom is hot as is my belly. Would you please kiss me?"
He looked surprised but he stepped closer and lifted my leash out of the way. His lips met mine and I opened wide, inviting him to taste me. Our tongues met and explored my mouth. I was careful to be submissive and simply followed his tongue with mine. He tasted divine, both masculine and sweet. I pressed my breasts and belly tight to him and felt my arousal growing stronger. His arms gathered me in and welded my body to his. I felt his erection grow huge. The kiss lasted a long time. I hoped he would take me right there. I needed him in me so badly.
When he released me, I saw lust in his eyes. I believed he would take me right then. I spread my knees and felt my engorged labia lips open to him. I felt the cool air flow into my pussy. I was so ready to be taken. I cursed my chained hands for the first time in weeks. I wanted him in me. Alas, he said, we're late lass, later. He turned away and led me to class. My damned nose followed its leash obediently as I tried to regain what little poise I had left.
I ate my meals from a bowl on the floor, always the same tasteless gruel with bits of vegetables and fruit. Always with my hands locked behind me. Even my toilet was dehumanizing. I peed over a bucket in the open. My ass was plugged by my masters and I could only crap when permitted. I learned to spread my ass cheeks wide with my chained hands so I would not need to wipe after crapping. I had never dreamed I could ever be so watched and controlled. Yet, I was happy. I never had to decide anything and my submissive nature flourished. I loved a slave's life.
My rules were simple:
Obey every order given, exactly and perfectly.
All free men and women are your masters and mistresses.
Do not speak without permission.
Know all the required positions for display, obeisance, and punishment. assume them instantly on command, and do not move unless ordered.
Move gracefully and smile at your masters.
Never open a door unless ordered.
Never move from an assigned position until commanded.
Whether leashed or not always follow your master one step behind and one step to the right.
Punishments:
Corrections during training: 1 stroke of the whip
Failing to follow a rule: 1 to 3 strokes of the whip.
Disobedience: ten to twenty strokes of the whip and one to three days in the bad girl cell.
Attempted escape: fifty strokes, five to ten days in the bad girl cell, and close chains.
Week 5
My days always began with frustration. I would wake in the dark and finding my arms in a strange place, I would try to move them. Only after discovering they would not move did I remember that my hands had been fastened to the back of my collar. Then I would recall that I was a chained and collared slave. With a chain running from my nose to a ring on the wall. Oh well.
Surprisingly, I was comfortable. My bonds were smooth and snug. Though I had almost no freedom of motion, I was well fed, exercised, and had fantastic orgasms every day. I got much satisfaction from my now skillful obedience. I took pride in using my hard won skills to give pleasure to Masters and Mistresses. The only fly in my ointment was the missing orgasms. I was hot all the time. I could barely think I was so needy. Everything any trainer said made me think about sex, intercourse, coming, orgasms, climaxing. Most mornings I would awake in desperate need of a man in me. My dreams focused on a single topic. I could only dream about a huge cock ramming my pussy. There was never a face, or foreplay, or food, or talk. Nothing but me laying on my chained arms being fucked senseless. Then I would wake to a gaping, agonizing emptiness.
Soon, the lights would come on and I woul
d slide into kneeling display position. My posture and grace always, now, meeting the trainer's high standards.
When my master stood in front of me, I would bow low and nuzzle his feet. If I was not gagged I would lick his feet with long, languorous strokes until he bade me stop. Then I would resume kneeling display position and await his orders. I loved the submissive acts demanded of me.
He, or she, would unlock my chain from the wall and put me into the coffle. When all were in place, we would marched to the slave's bath, allowed to crap, and cleaned. The coffle would then be led into an adjoining room and the ends of the coffle secured to the omnipresent rings. Our hands would be freed and we would brush our teeth and hair. Lipstick was available and all the girls used it. Some enhancing their nether lips and nipples along with their mouths.
I had thirty minutes to clean and polish my collar and chains, and apply the makeup permitted me. I would paint a liquid rouge on my nipples and labia lips, apply lipstick and perfume. Finally, I would brush my teeth and hair. I would hurry through all my tasks then go to kneeling display position trying not to pull on the coffle chain.
Trainers would enter the dressing room on time. If we were in position they would release us and take us to the exercise room. Any girl not in position would receive three strokes, then we would go to exercise. Morning training session lasted hours and was purely physical. The afternoon training was teaching us how to be useful slaves. The evening session enhanced our natural sexual skills.
My morning exercises always began with a whipping to orgasm. My hands were locked to the back of my collar. I would either be bent over the bar or my collar would be locked to a chain dangling from the ceiling. After a couple of months of training, it took only one or two strokes to arouse me. Then a light touch on my clit or nipples would push me over the edge. After that a couple of passes on my clit or labia every few minutes would give me another orgasm. Each one stronger than the last. Normally I would receive five or six that left me writhing and breathless.
